


get me outta my blues (and now i'm feeling brand new)

by syzyguks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, So yeah, actually don't ask me what this is, also there's a lot of house related imagery, but i don't think you'll find any connection to the song tho rip, dw tho nothing too technical, i love iwakage, i think this can be counted as angst with happy ending, i was thinking of emo oihina and rooms and this is what my brain produced, inspired by fly to my room by bts!!, iwaoi angst sORRY, oikawa is a sad gay then a bad gay and finally a happy gay, ok enough tagging bye, one sentence of iwakage bcs, uhh what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syzyguks/pseuds/syzyguks
Summary: Always remember this, Tooru. Home is where the heart is.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 22
Kudos: 52





	get me outta my blues (and now i'm feeling brand new)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kazuyamiyuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazuyamiyuki/gifts), [sereneletters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereneletters/gifts).



For someone who deems home as an abstract concept, Oikawa Tooru could always point out the places he'd call home, restricting the word into a finite space- four walls, a roof, and a floor. Home is where the heart is, and Oikawa's heart has left him years ago in pursuit of a sphere, a sport, a team, a moment - a moment he would face inevitably, a moment he would end up either cherishing for years or end up locking it in the depths of the corners of his mind. 

_Home is where the heart is, Tooru,_ he remembers his mother say, as they watched the sunset. _And never let your heart run away free,_ he remembers her warning, her face distraught with the fresh memories of her husband - Tooru's father - cheating on her with another woman. _Protect your heart, for it is the one thing that will stay with you for eternity,_ he remembers her frail, tired voice whisper.

Tooru wonders whether heartbreaks are genetic, passed down to generations, as he hears Iwaizumi speak. Iwaizumi Hajime, his Iwa-chan, no more a best friend, a lover, but a stinging memory. Their love, no more the fresh blossom of a flower in Spring, but a withered tree in the height of Winter. Their love, no more a warmth in the hearth, but a blazing forest fire - burning everything in its way to ashes, the memories of them turning to cinders at the slightest touch.

Tooru watches aghast as Iwaizumi walks away, his mind playing his mother's words like a broken record, repeating the same sentences again and again. He watches as Iwaizumi carefully packs his bag, packs all of his belongings and prepares to leave. He watches as Iwaizumi mutters it's not you, Tooru. It's me. He watches as Iwaizumi walks to the car parked outside, Matsukawa greeting Iwaizumi with a hug and a pat on the back. He watches Iwaizumi sag with relief and oh. 

_Oh._

Tooru wails. 

Years ago, when they were kids, Tooru's comfort was Hajime, no, Iwaizumi. Years ago, when Tooru was insecure, he plucked his heart out and nestled it in the palms of his best friend who promised him to take care of it. Years ago, when Tooru was sad, he let himself be cornered by his best friend, soothing touches and calming words melting into his skin. Years ago, when Tooru was devastated, heart broken into splinters, he let himself get picked up by his best friend, allowing him to carefully stick the pieces together, joining the broken heart with promises of love, affection, and a brighter tomorrow. 

Today, jealousy dealt his cards and smashed it's ugly fist, filling his fragile heart with sludge, leaving him gasping for breath as his best friend's - his love's, his everything's - words slashed him relentlessly, leaving him no room to recover. Tooru watched with agony as the very hands that carefully nestled his heart with love destroyed him, scattering the pieces, leaving him distraught as he frantically collected the remains. 

Tomorrow, Tooru will be called heartless, a playboy, a whore, and every other name imaginable. And Tooru will not mind, because tomorrow he won't allow anyone into his heart - his home - and he will never have to be heartbroken again. He will never face the pain again. 

But until tomorrow comes, Tooru will wail for his heart to come back, spend days and nights agonising over what had occurred, curse every being on the planet, and destroy himself. Until tomorrow comes, Tooru will walk down the path of destruction, ruining everything in his wake - akin to a forest fire - and grin at the demolition. He will walk with his head high, laughing maniacally as he watches the heartbreak on others, their faces twisting with sorrow, grief, despair, and anger.

Tooru's breakup with Iwaizumi kickstarts the journey of his descent into a monster. Tooru has given up on love, given up on the feeling of being cherished, given up on the happiness. Instead, he now pursues the euphoria of breaking hearts. He now runs on the feeling of being an absolute jackass, breaking hearts left and right without a care in the world. His fuel is the rush he gets from distraught faces and quivering words asking him one thing.

_Why?_

Tooru doesn't answer, he watches impassively as the others break down, a sick satisfaction running down his throat like the sweetest of honeys. He watches as the others let sob with grief, with pain, and smiles. Oikawa Tooru is the worst excuse of a human being, and he is proud to wear that title. 

In the broken words of their misery, their sobs and hiccups, Oikawa Tooru builds a new home. This one is sturdy, it's foundation is laid on hatred and spite. This home is dark and evil and vile, and it grows with every new conquest of his. This home is a mansion, built upon the sorrows of others. It gleams like a jewel, every surface smooth and shiny as if it were freshly polished. It is bejeweled with Oikawa's conquests, the tears of his victims encrusted in the walls, radiating a shine rivalling the gems.

It is a palatial building and Oikawa is its sole master. Somewhere in a far corner is a dingy little room with no key. In the room lies the remaining pieces of Oikawa's heart, the one so ruthlessly shredded by one Iwaizumi Hajime. Most days, it is dormant, collecting dust, and in those days Oikawa goes out with his team, drinking till the dawn, sleeping with anyone willing, and living his playboy life. 

Some days it pulses. Shakes his mansion to the core. Those days Oikawa Tooru holes himself in his room, locking the door and covering himself with a blanket, huddled in his bed. Those days, Oikawa scrolls through social media, stealthily going through Iwaizumi's profile, heart pounding in his chest, the ache spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes and he watches Iwaizumi - his Hajime - profess his love for Kageyama to the whole world. He watches, with a weeping heart, as he scrolls through Iwaizumi's sonnets of love, looks at how happy Iwaizumi is and how he seems to radiate brilliantly. 

Those days, when Oikawa is too deep in the cycle of hurt and self loathing and destruction, the mansion collapses. The jewels reflect his tears, and all the faces of his victims morph into his teary one, crying and begging Iwaizumi to give them another chance, another shot, another go. The walls turn into mirrors, and when he punches them and the glass shatters, it looks too similar to Oikawa's heart. 

Those days, Oikawa spends the time wallowing his misery with alcohol, his head dizzy with plaguing memories and his heart overwhelmed with grief. Those days, Oikawa can only form one thought. 

_Why?_

But he is not Oikawa Tooru if he lacks the grace and the disconnected charm which makes one wonder what his true self is. Oikawa Tooru descends rather fast, but he always picks himself up. Collects his pieces with the elegant setter hands of his and joins them together with pretence. He might destroy himself in hours, but he will always, always, pick himself back in a matter of minutes. He brushes off the pain and longing and moves forward - pushing himself to reach new heights in his volleyball career.

Surprise comes to his life in the form of Hinata Shouyou. The younger had been a ball of energy in high school, their first ever meeting leaving Oikawa breathless and in awe of the shrimpy's speed. Oikawa Tooru's third year of high school was filled with a destructive passion towards volleyball, his senses clouded by his failure against Ushijima. 

Volleyball wasn't a merciful love back then, and Oikawa always grimaces as he recollects his high school memories. The pain of his insecurities is now shrouded by the pain Oikawa has from remembering Iwaizumi, from remembering Matsukawa and Hanamaki, from remembering their break up and the consequent loss of friendship among the four. Oikawa had dug a rift between him and them, and ended up being lonelier than ever. 

Oikawa doesn't know whether the happiness that bubbles up in his chest is due to the shrimpy's presence, or the fact that they shared a brief history, or the fact that he had found another Japanese national, but he does acknowledge that he hasn't experienced this pure, unbridled happiness since his break-up.

It turns out that shrimpy is as delusional as Oikawa, his spontaneous and bratty behaviour paralleling that of Oikawa's, and the fire inside him mirroring that of Oikawa's. When it comes to volleyball, their passion rivals each other's. 

So it's completely natural for the both of them to end up in shrimpy's bed, bodies intertwined, lust enveloping their hearts and desire clouding their minds as they have sex. It's fast, rough, desperate, and surprisingly liberating. Hinata is just like Oikawa, all thorns and prickly, disconnected with feelings. It’s easier for them, Oikawa realises, as they continue sleeping together - Hinata is understanding like that. 

With each meeting of theirs, Oikawa allows Hinata into his home, into his life. His gleaming mansion, once protected from visitors, opens the doors. A little sapling fights its way through the barren concrete of the palatial building, and Oikawa watches the sapling grow into a little plant, watches leaves sprout with fascination. 

With each meeting, Hinata and Oikawa grow closer, grow fonder. Hinata occupies his mind all day, random things and actions and places reminding the brunette of the shrimpy. They exchange numbers, and it feels like Hinata is by his side all day. They talk about everything and nothing, all at once.   
Oikawa decides that his mansion - the one that held his heart as a prisoner - would benefit with the little shrub. Everyday, he waters the plant with care, spending his time with the little plant, tracking and observing its growth. Hinata is wonderful, Oikawa muses, as he observes that his mansion, carefully constructed on the despair of the others, demolishes on its own, brick by brick. The plant grows in size everyday, little tendrils encroaching the mansion’s space - inch by inch. Oikawa finds out that he doesn’t mind. 

The mansion loses its shine, the tear-filled jewels falling to ruins daily as Hinata Shouyou carefully replaced them with ordinary bricks. He took down the palatial building all on his own, and helped Oikawa construct a little cottage, full of love and life. The plant grew into a lawn, little flowers blooming everyday. Oikawa notes that they were red and blue - the shades that reminded him of a certain red-haired personification of sunshine and his volleyball olympic jersey. 

It took several months, but Hinata was patient, understanding, and lovely - just as the passionate shrimpy Oikawa had encountered in high school, just as the grown-up Ninja Shouyou he met in the beaches of Rio de Janeiro. Each day, with each word exchanged, Hinata and his magic encroached the territory of Oikawa’s now-turned-cottage and painted it with love. 

Oikawa has never been this happy.

When Oikawa visits the dingy room during one of his alcohol induced nights, he realises that he doesn’t feel sorrow looming over him anymore. He locks himself in the dingy little room, and cleans it thoroughly. He brushes the dust off of the shattered pieces of his heart, and goes through the painstaking process of joining it together. This time, the glue is love, the adhesive is Hinata Shouyou. 

When Hinata visits Oikawa in San Juan - a hastily planned surprise because he missed Oikawa - he does the single most scariest thing he has done in a few years. Oikawa carefully removes his heart and with trembling hands, places it in Hinata’s open palms. 

Hinata nestles it with love and unbridled affection.

_Home is where the heart is,_ Oikawa hears his mother say, and as he looks at Hinata Shouyou, who takes care of his heart as the most prized possession of his, Oikawa thinks that Hinata Shouyou is home.

**Author's Note:**

> ahahaha a barely oihina fic bcs oihina live in my mind rent free
> 
> very little inspiration, almost negligible tbh, from Fly to My Room by BTS and a huge inspiration from the proverb "Home is where the heart is."


End file.
